


A Red Fear

by SilentTaboo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: After events of Avengers, Attempted (failed) Assassination, Family-ish Dynamic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Logan is a Hit Man, Scott Is An Orphan, Scott Needs A Hug, Scott is Fifteen, forced assassinations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentTaboo/pseuds/SilentTaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red. I hate red. </p><p>It’s the color of blood, and pain, and suffering. It’s the color of murder, and of screams. It’s the color of fear. Fear of the Professor and of Logan, and the red they made me spill. The sins they made me commit with the explanation that it was what was best for the world. </p><p>I didn’t use to kill, but that was before IT happened, and now I see the images of the people I’ve killed behind my eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red and Dread

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, I'm not sure how this fanfic will be received so here's the deal, you let me know if you like it, and I'll post more. :)

Red. I hate red.

It’s the color of blood, and pain, and suffering. It’s the color of murder, and of screams. It’s the color of fear. Fear of the Professor and of Logan, and the red they made me spill. The sins they made me commit with the explanation that it was what was best for the world.

I didn’t use to kill, but that was before IT happened, and now I see the images of the people I’ve killed behind my eyes. I used to think that the Professor was the most just and wise man alive. But would a man like that make a group of teens kill, or for that matter, make me _direct_ those missions?

I honestly don’t know the answer anymore. My blind following of that monster has gotten me where I am now. You want to know the worst part?

Now that I was in the Professor’s circle of assassins, I had no way out.

“ _Scott, please come to my office.”_ Dread concentrated in my stomach. Who did he want us to kill now? What had they done to offend the Professor? Being sent on a “mission” was really the only reason he called for me anymore. There were no more discussions on my control, and no more discussions on what was best for me. Just tellings of who the Professor thought the world would be better without, and how he wanted me to rectify the “problem”.

I entered the Professor’s office as quietly as I could. Professor Xavier had a tendency to get violently irritated at the smallest things now. I had yet to figure out why.

“Ah, Scott. Good. For this mission, I want you to go alone. Don’t take any of the others. Don’t even tell them you’re leaving. You are going to need stealth for this job, and you will not get that in numbers. Have you heard of the Avengers?” I felt my heart jump into my throat. He _had_ to be kidding.

“Yes, sir.” The Professor nodded.

“I thought you had. They have been on the news quite a lot recently, the Avengers declaring themselves heroes, acting as if their invincible. Cocky heroes cannot save a planet, so for the good of all, I need to prove at least one of them wrong. I would prefer it be Tony Stark. He is also known as Iron Man. They are going to be attending a press conference out in the open today at 6. If you can get Iron Man down, do the same to as many Avengers as you can manage without getting caught. If you do get caught, I need not remind you that reveling anything about this organization would not be in your best interest.” I began to shake as he gave me a weighted glare.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You need to leave immediately. The press conference will be held on the steps of the Stark Tower in approximately 4 hours. Good lock Scott.” He nodded towards the TV set on the other side of the room. “I’ll be watching.”

A shiver ran down my spine as I left his office as I felt my face pale. Was he crazy? I knew what kind of mission this was, and though I hated my life, I never wanted to die. If I managed to kill Tony Stark, I didn’t expect to live much longer. From what I heard the Avengers consisted of two master Assassins (actual masters—not gifted amateurs like me), one super soldier, one genius in a metal arsenal, one alien (currently off planet), and the Hulk. Let’s not forget about the Hulk.

I was dead. I knew better than to run. Logan was the best tracker, and the most ruthless killer on the planet, and I honestly thought the Avengers would kill me quicker and be more humane to me even if I did manage to kill one of their own.

The phrase “pick your poison” kept running through my head as I suited up and left the mansion for what would be the last time. I only had about four or five hours left to live, and I was going to hate every last minute of it. Maybe if I shot at them and missed they’d find and kill me before I had to kill one of them. Here’s to hoping for small mercies.


	2. Poision Picked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to write this chapter summary without giving anything away... hmmm...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. This one is significantly longer than chapter 1, so I hope you guys can forgive how long it took me to post it. The next one will come sooner, I promise. If I get at least one "kudos" or "comment" in the next hour, I'll post chapter 3 before I go to bed. If not, expect it within the next week. ;)

I stood in one of the surrounding buildings, giving me the best view on the roped off section of the Tower stairs that I could find. They were supposed to be exiting the building any moment now, and I was still trying to decide when I should stage my mock attempt at assassination. I was leaning towards the moment all of them had exited the building. I figured if I was going to die tonight anyway, sooner rather than later was ideal. I would chicken out if I waited too long, and instead of being shot, blown up, or torn to pieces, I’d be hunted down, and slowly shredded by the Wolverine.

As much as I probably deserved a slow death, I didn’t want one, and I had been allowed to “pick my poison”. I looked up at the clouded sky and wished desperately that I had been able to live differently. No fifteen year old should know what it is like to kill, but I guess mutants didn’t get the same rights as everyone else.

My thought process stopped and my breathing picked up as I saw the door to the Stark Tower open and men in suits that weren’t on my target list walk out. Apparently, they had been charged with introducing New York’s superheroes. I felt about ready to puke when the actual Avengers started filling out. In the front was Doctor Banner, also known as the Hulk. Next came the two assassins that still had yet to give proper names to the press, then Steve Rogers AKA Captain America, and last but most importantly for me, Tony Stark, wearing everything of his suit but the helmet which he had under his right arm, waving and smiling with practiced ease.

I lifted a shaking hand to his visor as I looked about a foot above Tony’s head. I really hoped that the blast didn’t accidentally kill him. The last thing I wanted my last act to be was murder. Slowly I pushed the button on the side of my visor allowing a lethal lazar to shoot from my eyes. I didn’t have time to think as a gun was aimed and shot in my direction by someone in the Avengers group. The bullet hit my arm, and I fell to the ground wishing who ever had shot me hadn’t missed as the pain throbbed and pulsed.

Well, at least they knew where I was if they could shoot at me. They didn’t have to worry about me moving, even if I wanted to, the pain was nearly paralyzing. I began to sob as the pain and fear began to fully sink in. I only hoped that they found me, and killed me soon.

I could hear the chaos from the streets filtered through what sounded like white noise. I had thrown up a moment before from either blood loss or nerves, and that had only served to make my sobs sound all the more desperate in my ears.

When I was younger, I had imagined I would die in some heroic fashion or quietly as an old man. Not sobbing like a child, bleeding, and throwing up while I waited for my killers to come and finish the job. It was my own fault though. I had let myself work for corrupt people, and do horrendous things.

I curled up on the floor in as tight a ball as I could manage while listening to the commotion down below. I could hear doors slamming, and curses flying through the air as who was going to kill me came closer. I saw, more than heard, the door to the office I was currently bleeding in open as a man with short hair and a no-sleeve vest came in cautiously pointing his gun at different parts of the room, very aware of the sobbing something behind the desk in front of him. Looking back on it, I think he was just trying to make sure it was just me in the room and not a trap. Honestly, I wished he would just hurry up, point the gun at me, and shoot. The wait was causing my panic to form a new level.

The shock that crossed his face was rather unexpected. I also didn’t expect that he would lower his gun, before crouch down next to me, and press a finger to his ear. “Guys, I think I found him. He can’t be more than fourteen, fifteen years old. I need you guys on the tenth floor, east wing, room 614. Oh, and bring Banner, but leave SHIELD. Natasha shot him in the arm, and he’s having a panic attack. I think this has gotten way more complicated. I’ll see what I can’t do to calm him down.”

Once he had finished talking to what I assumed was his team, he raised his hands palms up inching his way closer to me. I whimpered and pressed my back into one of the wooden supports of the desk.

“Hey, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you, kiddo. I need you to take a deep breath for me. Do you think you can do that?” The calming quiet way he spoke made it near impossible for me to not at least try and do as he asked. It had been a long time since anyone had bothered to talk to me like that.

I took a shaky breath in, only to have it cut off by a loud sob. “It’s alright. Try again. Follow me. In… out… in…out…” He set a rhythm for me to follow, and I did, shakily and sprinkled with sobs.

I wanted to know why he hadn’t killed me yet. I was pretty sure he knew I was the one that aimed a laser above Tony Stark’s head. Now he was trying to coax me out of a panic attack, and being kind about it. He wasn’t yelling at me to get it together like Logan did, and he wasn’t trying to invade my head to block off emotion like Professor X did. He was just being – nice.

“I’m going to get you sitting up, okay? It should help with your breathing some, and I can’t imagine that arm feels okay with you lying on it like that. Are you okay with me touching you?” I really wasn’t, but I didn’t want to anger him. So far, he had been nice, and he had put his gun away, but I had been shot faster than I could think, and I knew the man could draw it again in an instant.

I gave a jerky nod before closing my eyes shut. I really hoped he was telling the truth about just wanting to get me sitting up. I didn’t think I could handle any more pain without passing out. I felt his hand gently, but firmly grasp my uninjured shoulder while the other went to grab a hold on to my waist. I couldn’t help the whimpered sob that escaped me as he pulled me up into a sitting position and maneuvered me so that my back leaned up against his chest.

“You’re alright. You’re okay. Shhh. I’m not going to hurt you.” Just as I was beginning to get used to this man’s presence, we could hear others running down the hall and approaching fast. I shifted as my fear began to grow back the closer they got.

The man moved a protective arm over my shoulders, being mindful of the bullet wound in my right bicep. “They won’t hurt you either. I won’t let them. Do you think you could tell me your name?”

“S—Sc—Scott.” I managed to get out, noticing quite well the man’s attempt to get me to focus on something else besides the superheroes coming through the door.

“It’s nice to meet you Scott. My name is Clint. Do you think you could even out your breathing a little bit for me?” I nodded, trying hard to do as he asked and not pay attention to the people now lining the furthest wall watching us as the man continued to try and calm me down.

When I had calmed down to the occasional hiccupped sob, Clint spoke again. “Good job, Scott. Would it be okay if one of my friends came over here? Bruce won’t hurt you, but your arm’s still bleeding. I don’t want you to pass out on us.” I gave a shaky nod.

Clint looked up from me to the group of superheroes huddled together in a group whispering quietly to one another. “Bruce, I think it’s safe to come over here now.”

One of the men I knew to be Bruce Banner broke away from the group and walked slowly towards us with his palms up. I could feel myself tensing up involuntarily, and Clint started whispering reassurances to me, trying to keep me from going into another panic attack. Dr. Banner knelt in front of me slowly, giving a reassuring smile.

“Hey buddy, I’m going to try and stop the bleeding. It’s going to make it hurt a little worse, but I can only do something about that once we get you to the Tower. The others are trying to come up with the best way for us to do that without adding anymore stress to you. We think it might be alright if Tony flies you to the Tower, and the rest of us walk back over. Would you be alright with that?” While he questioned me Clint tightened his grip on my shoulders, and Dr. Banner began to tear off my sleeve so that he could see the bullet wound.

I tried to look, but Clint took a hand and guided my chin up and keeping my line of sight away from the bloody appendage. “Best if you don’t look right now, kid. Would it be alright if Tony flew you over? Are you afraid of heights?” I could feel Dr. Banner probing around the wound, as I tried to formulate an answer.

“I-I’m n-not afraid of h-heights.” I didn’t bother to say, I was afraid of the Avengers themselves. I completely believed it was a given.

“Well that’s good.” Doctor Banner said while tightly tying what was left of my sleeve over the wound causing me to groan in pain. “We need to get you out of here so I can fix up that arm. Clint, how long until the agents waiting downstairs get antsy enough to come looking for us?”

Clint tensed behind me. “Not much longer if they haven’t already. You done there, because I don’t want them getting their hands on Scott. The Director is more likely to give him a cell and an interrogation room than help.” I couldn’t help but whimper at that. “It’s alright, kiddo. I’m going to call Tony over, and we’ll get you over to Stark Tower. SHIELD can’t get in without permission, and at that point, technically you’ll be in Avenger’s custody, so legally the World Council cannot take you from us. No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.  

“Tony, come over here. We need to move him now, before SHIELD comes up here and does it for us.” Like the others, the Tony Stark walked over slowly, eyeing me with a different wariness than I was eyeing him.

“Do you think you can stand, kid?” I nodded, bracing one hand against the floor, climbing onto weak legs as three sets of hands came out ready to catch me in case I fell. “Good. Well, we need to—.” The distant sound of yelling interrupted him.

“Uh-oh.” Clint said glancing at the door. “Anyone still have their comm. in?”

Captain America answered him quickly. “Yeah, Fury just gave orders for us to take Scott into custody, and since none of us would give him a straight answer him, he’s sending in backup. Tony, we don’t have time to get to the roof, you think you could leave through the window while we stall? It looks like it should be big enough.”

“Yeah, Cap. Alright, kid, looks like we’re taking the window express. I’m going to pick you up, and then I need to hold on as tight as you can. I’ll need at least one hand to stabilize the vertical climb. It should be a short flight from here to the tower, but longer if I have to catch you.” I nodded.

The metal was actually warmer than I thought it would be. I wrapped my good arm around his shoulders as he held me in a way that reminded almost disturbingly like a toddler. I held my bad arm as close to me as I could, and Tony climbed onto the ledge of the window and jumping off. I clung as tightly as I could, feeling myself start to shake again. Once Tony began to speak to his AI, I tried to focus on that, instead of the proximity to the man I had been instructed to kill. I tried not to think about the fact that if the Professor thought I was alive, he would send Logan after me. I doubted even the Avengers could stop them if they really wanted me dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! The clock is ticking. Tell me how I did! Remember, if I get a "kudos" or "comment" within the HOUR after I post this, I'll be posting chapter 3 tonight!


	3. What Needs Fixing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD steps on toes, and Scott taken to Avenger's Medical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sssooo, A Guest took me up on my “One hour after posting chapter 2, one “kudos”/”comment”, next chapter before morning”. You have that person to thank for this chapter's swift update. Chapter 4 will be up within the next week.

I walked away from the window when I was certain that Stark and Scott had made it to the Tower without interference. Agents belonging to SHIELD flooded into the room, and I could practically see the agitation radiate off of my other team members as the agents came in armed to the teeth, and pointing guns at every available space as Sitwell walked up to us, a self-righteous air seeping out of his every step.

“Where’s the assassin? He belongs in SHIELD’s custody.” I could feel my team’s bodies tense around me.

Steve crossed his arms and gave a protective glare to the shorter man. “He’s in the Avenger’s custody, and he’s going to stay there.”

“That’s not your call, Rogers. The ‘Avengers’ aren’t even an enforcement group. You’re all a program SHIELD started out of desperation. By all rights, you all belong to SHIELD. It’s not within your rights, _soldier_ to disobey.”Cap’s eyes turned to steel.

“First off, _Sitwell_ , every last one of us severed any ties we had with _SHIELD_ after the Battle of New York. SHIELD has not _rights_ over _any_ us, and you’re lucky we agreed to collaborate with your corrupt organization at all. We have no trust in your systems, and we refuse to allow that boy to go into your custody so you can do who knows what to him in an attempt to get information. He will remain in Avenger’s custody until we say otherwise. Come on, guys. Let’s get back to the tower.”

“You have not been debriefed yet, and there is still the matter of you handing over the killer.” Natasha drew a knife as she walked past the agent on her way to the door. I was just sad it wasn’t me. I had always disliked the man, even more so after I found out he had been one of the ones to convince Fury hiding the fact that Coulson was alive from some of the deadliest people on the planet was a good idea.

Sitwell stilled and the guns of the four other agents still in the room trailed on her. I growled low in my chest and drew my bow, aiming at the one nearest me. I gave a satisfied smirk when he began to sweat. Steve turned to give an unimpressed glance before continuing out the door motioning for the rest of us to follow.

“I will debrief my own team, Sitwell, and the issue of the boy has already been addressed. If Nick Fury has any other concerns, tell him to contact us.”

The walk back to the Tower was tense, and I was trying my hardest not to speed up. I was convinced the others were dragging their feet. No one was willing to lower their guard or their weapon until we entered the private entrance to the right of the building.

 

 

+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++

“Jarvis, prepare the medical room and start the Anti-SHIELD protocol please. The only ones I want entering my tower are the Avengers until further notice. Upgrade your firewalls to level 9. I’m not taking any chances. I know that they’ll try to override your programming again. If it looks like they are about to break through, go all out, hold nothing back, and notify me.”

I felt Tony’s second arm wrap around me once we landed, gently massaging the back of my neck. I found the gesture oddly soothing and distracting from the jostling caused by Stark’s walking. “You’re safe now, kid. We’ll get you fixed up, and then you can sleep. Jarvis what’s the ETA on the others?”

I felt myself jump as the tower answered him from various speakers, “Captain Rogers, ex-Agent Romanoff, Dr. Banner, and ex-Agent Barton have managed to convince SHIELD that it was in their best interests to allow them to leave. ETA: three minutes.”

“Good. When Clint and Bruce enter the building, tell him the kid’s shaking again, and I’m not too happy about his breathing patterns either. Kid, calm down. Things are going to be a little scary here for a little bit, but you’ll be okay.”

“Of course, Sir.”

His words hurt as much as they helped. Why were they treating me like this? Why hadn’t they killed me yet? They all kept referring to me as “kid”, “kiddo”, and “buddy”. Didn’t they realize I hadn’t been a kid in a very long time? The awful part was—I liked it. It felt like I had been starved of an essential, and their total disregard of me being anything but a kid made me hopeful. That was a feeling I couldn’t afford or deserve to feel.

“Tell me; how important are those sunglasses of yours?” I felt my stomach drop out of my body.

“Huh?” I asked shakily.

“I mean are they there for a special purpose, or could we take them off?”

“No! No, leave them.” I said panic rising exponentially.

“Okay, alright. That’s all I needed to know. Goodness, everything works you up doesn’t it?” Mr. Stark walked into a white tiled room carrying me over to a hospital bed before setting me down gently. I sat on the high quality cotton sheets staring Mr. Stark too wary and in pain to speak.

“The others will be here in a moment, and then we’ll see about that hole in your arm. Then you’re going to sleep. We’ll worry about anything else tomorrow.” I nodded. “By the way kid, what’s your last name?”

I looked at him confused. “Summers.” I answered none too happy about the roughness of my voice from my recent bouts of crying.

“Jarvis, pull up the medical record for Scott would you? I need to know your blood type and any allergies before I can start an IV and a blood transfusion.” A holographic image came up before Stark listing information in some physician’s coding I couldn’t understand if I tried. Stark seemed to get it well enough.

“M’kay. Nothing too concerning and we have plenty of AB positive, so, we just need to wait until the others get here. As much as I know about textbook doctoring, I know nothing of the literal aspects of it. Bruce does though.” Well that was real reassuring. “I’ll just go ahead and grab what I know we’ll need. Okay?” I nodded.

He gave a swift nod back and headed towards a row of cabinets next to a door pulling out metal instruments in sterile plastic containers, and vials, and tubing as he put them out on a medical tray.

I watched with fascination wondering what they all did. Before I had been pulled into the assassination career, I had wanted to be a doctor. I had always wanted to help people. That’s why I thought the Professor’s “vision” was so important.

“Sir, Dr. Banner and Mr. Barton are currently at the door. They wish to enter the medical wing. Ms. Romanoff and Captain Rogers have decided to debrief on level 63.” I jumped slightly letting out a hiss as I jarred my arm.

“Kid, don’t move. You’ve moved around too much as it is with that arm. Let them in J.”

“Of, course, sir.”

Bruce and Clint from earlier entered the room. Bruce looked at the holographic chart still in front of my bed before speaking first as Clint moved closer to my bed side. “Good you found his medical file. Anything I should be aware of?”

“Allergy wise, no. I’ve got everything else set up over here. You saw the wound. Is he going to need to be under, or was it a through and through?”

“Under. It’s lodged somewhere near his bone. Nothing life threatening right now, but nothing I want to leave any longer. I think we should put him under before the prep work. He was too close to shock earlier, and the extra stress after the day he must of just had won’t be good for him.” Tony nodded in contemplative agreement, and I sagged with relief. Sleep, medically induced or natural, sounded fantastic.

“You like that idea, huh, kiddo? I don’t think I’d want to be awake for it either. We need to get you lying down though, so when they give you the medicine you won’t fall off the bed.” I nodded and Clint helped me settle against the pillows.

The next moment a scrubbed and gloved Bruce was next to me using an alcohol wipe to clean the grime off of the injection site, and I focused on the ceiling when the needle entered my skin, and wondered what would happen if I woke up to find out this all was a dream. Even though one of these people had shot me, it was the nicest anyone had treated me in a long time. At school, everyone knew I was a mutant, and I was bullied for it. In the Institute, everyone knew I led the assassinations the Professor assigned, that didn’t earn me any positive popularity. With the adults, I was a tool, that was quickly becoming to mentally damaged to really use.

I sincerely hoped it wasn’t just a dream. As the drug pulled me deeper towards sleep, I guessed I would just have to wait and find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, terrible ending. I’ll probably tweek it tomorrow, but for the time being this is the ending. Next one should be up within the next week. Don’t forget to leave kudos and reviews! I update faster that way.


	4. Questions and Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's curious while they wait for Scott to wake up.

It had been a few hours since we had rescued the kid who had shot at me, and I frankly found him perplexing. After Bruce had removed the bullet, I had done some research on him (and avoiding the Captain of Patriotic Debriefing).

He had been orphaned several years ago, and put into the system before disappearing out of it without an investigation. His medical records stop about the same time he “disappeared” from the system. The only thing that stayed constant was his schooling records, but then, the constant attendance gaps left a lot to be desired.

The Institution “responsible” for him was run by people with squeaky clean records: no criminal history, no debt history, perfect credit, perfect driving records. For every. Single. One. Of the employees.

It was creepy, and really suspicious. They were either really thorough with back ground checking, or they were hiding something. Like child soldiers.

It made me really hopeful that Scott would be in the talking mood when he woke up. I sincerely hoped that I was wrong, or he was the only one involved, but I sincerely doubted it. We had living proof *cough* Natasha and Clint *cough* that young assassins came from evil organizations or crazy circuses and not by their own power.

Then there was something else that bothered me more than Xavier Institute.

The boy had missed.

I was almost certain by this point (and some blood work run by Jarvis) that he was a mutant with the X gene. Based on his strong reaction when I asked about his weird glasses, and the lethal laser that had landed less than a foot above my head, the kid shot lasers from his eyes, which was cool and I was certain I’d have to start calling him Superman. However, if Scott had been looking directly at me, intending to kill me, why had he missed?

I had been in his direct line of sight. I was certain if he wanted me dead, I would be. Had he been sent to kill me and chickened out? Had he decided there was no way he would get out of an Avenger assassination alive, or had he been plain suicidal?

Any way around it, I was looking forward to when Scott woke up. Hopefully he’d be in a talking mood and answer enough questions directly or indirectly for me to get some sort of correct answer.

“Sir, Dr. Banner wishes to speak with you. I believe it concerns a certain teenager, sir.”

“Thank you Jarvis. Maybe Bruce can shed some more light on the enigma. Where is he now?” “83rd floor. The observation room for the medical wing, sir.” He answered as I entered the elevator. “Shall I take you up?”

“Might as well.”

“Very good, sir.”

The ride from my basement lab to the medical floor seemed to drag on forever as facts and theories turned about in my head. The only thing that made since was something… wait…

“Jarvis. Compile a list of all unsolved murders of mysterious circumstances within the last three years. Rule out anything that I would classify as normal and get me a possible weapons list. I want it by the end of my conversation with Banner if you could.”

“Of course, sir. Would I be correct in assuming this search coincides with your earlier searches?”

“Yes, J.” The doors opened and I walked down the obnoxiously white corridors, not bothering to stop myself from checking in on Scott as I passed by his room. Jarvis had been told to inform us if he started showing signs of waking, but for the time being, he was all but dead to the world, scrubbed clean of blood with his injured arm wrapped and propped up on extra pillows.

I continued to the room directly beside Scott’s and entered to find Bruce frowning at the hologram table.

“Hey, Tony. Did you get my earlier message about the X gene?” I nodded and he continued.

“Good, I know you’ve probably been doing a lot of this, but I’ve also been researching Scott. His parents died when he was young, and a few years later he was found in the system by a Charles Xavier, who shortly after started an Institute for the ‘gifted’. Current employees include a woman by the name of Ororo, a man by the name of Logan and another man by the name of Hank. I can’t get anything on them, their either perfect people or their hiding something.—I think their hiding something.”

I nodded in agreement. “I think they had an assassin’s ring within the Institute. I looked it up and about a third of the children attending are orphaned. I can almost guarantee you they have some form of the X gene. It’s definitely worth looking into. I’m not even entirely sure we should involve SHIELD for the time being. We don’t know enough, and until that kid tells us why he aimed a laser six inches above my head, we won’t know for certain that this even has anything to do with anyone else. Though I’m 95% sure it does. I think we should all be on guard until we get this figured out. If we’re right, this kid might not be the only one coming after us.” Bruce nodded feeling as much seriousness about this as I did.

The second I believed in taking caution, people knew the situation shouldn’t be taken lightly. If we had X gene empowered teenagers scared enough to commit murder, it was likely someone was going to get hurt, and I wasn’t entirely sure who I hoped I would rather it be. The teenager, or one of my team mates. Potentially explosive, mildly (very) illegal chemicals, and a small lab: Go for it. Frightened teens with who knows what power backed and pushed by adults that think they can run the world: watch your shadow.

“What’s Cap decided?” I asked still thinking about super powered teens.

“You really need to stop missing debeifings. We really could have used you on this one. He’s not involving SHIELD, and he’s not handing over the kid. He wants to see what mental state Jarvis will decide he’s in before making any other kinds of decisions on who watches him when or if that would even be necessary. I’d like to say it won’t be, but I have a strong feeling that won’t be the case. From what I can tell, Clint is most likely to end up with babysitting duty, but it could just as easily end up being me.”

“It better not be me.” I said thinking about my own terrible experiences with anything under 21. “I’m not good with kids.”

“You seemed okay with Scott.”

“That’s different. He was injured and not at all up for talking or referencing anything that would make me feel old. The second that kid calls me sir, or gives me that ‘look’ gets these days give that basically says you grew up riding to school on a dinosaur, I’m going to start sprouting grey hairs.” Bruce deadpanned, and the seriousness of the conversation dwindled.

+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++

The Professor sat, his hands steepled, watching and analyzing the security footage for what felt like the millionth time. There was no way to know for sure until Logan returned, but he hoped his intended target was eliminated. Scott had become too unstable. Too unpredictable. The Professor couldn’t close off his raging emotions anymore and it left the rest of the team restless and uncertain.

He couldn’t have Scott killed in anything other than a job related accident, however. The students would riot, and that was the last thing he needed. He had left the team vulnerable to too much already. He seriously hoped Rogue would prove to be a better leader, or at least last longer than her predecessor.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. The sharp rap let him know it was Logan and he could almost feel the tension build within him. Had the Avengers killed him? If they had, he would owe them for taking care of the job. Perhaps he could rid them of the Hulk monster. Surely they couldn’t be that attached to the beast or the pathetic doctor he inhabited.

“Come in.”

“I took a look around the site and found the room Scott decided to use as a scope point. I could smell blood, and gun powder, but not death. He lives Professor, and our sources tell us the Avengers have him in custody.”

A growl left the man at the desk. Collecting himself he let out a sigh. “Scott wouldn’t reveal anything about us. He knows better. I need him dead Logan. We can afford nothing less. He knows of all the missions organized since this operation began. On the slight chance he does talk, it could be a mess we could not get out of. Do you know your orders Logan?”

Logan gave a grunt of acknowledgement. “Good. I expect to see you back in three days.”

“Have a good weekend, Professor. I’m going hunting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me so long for this little chapter. I'll have the next one up this Friday and it should be longer. I hit major writer's block writing this one, but I have a direction now, so it shouldn't be too hard to write the next one.


	5. Bored Powers and Blood Thirst

Over the next two days, I got to know a little bit more about the Avengers. I spent much of it sleeping off the pain in my arm and the anxious feelings I got when conscious. I would be stupid to suspect Logan would come for me, and to think that those inside and outside the Tower, wouldn’t decide they needed answers, more than I needed sanity.

I hadn’t seen much of the Tower, just the hallways, elevator, and rooms I had been rushed through when I first arrived. And this boring, white room.

I was beginning to understand why people complained about hospitals, and often said if they stayed there any longer they would die of boredom. I had only been there a little over 48 hours, and I was beginning to see it as being a possibility. There also wasn’t much I could do about that.

I had been “grounded” by Tony when I had refused to answer any of their questions on the Professor and the Institute. That meant no electronics, no visitors just for the fun of it, no TV. Just staring at the ceiling, trying to guess override codes for Jarvis. So far, I had ruled out the chance that they had anything to do with numbers.

“Are they equations, Jarvis?” I asked just out of curiosity. If they were, I really hoped (but doubted) they were simple.

“Negative, young Scott. Might I suggest abandoning this armature attempt at hacking? They seem to be amusing, Sir far too much for my servers’ liking.”

“Is he listening now, Jarvis.”

“Affirmative.”

“Tony, I’m bored! Can I at least get a hint, or better yet un-“grounded”? I’m starting to imagine colors in your white walls.”

“Nope, kid. You aren’t telling us things. Believe it or not, that could actually hurt more people than it could help. You’re grounded until you tell one of us what you know, or at least until you answer Jarvis’s psychology questions. I’m sure if you get bored enough you’ll crack.” Came Tony’s reply through the speakers.

“I told you all I have reasons for not telling you. You don’t know what they’d do to me if I told.”

“And we told _you_ we could protect you. How will they know about anything that is said inside this tower?” Tony asked with practiced ease.

I noticed his answer for what it was; he was trying to get me to talk again. “You don’t know what he can do. You don’t know.” I responded quietly.

“And we won’t until you tell us.” Came a voice in the door way. I started as a man in a suit stood there leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.

I gave a sadistic smile, slightly angry. Did they really want to know that badly? I had a guess as to who this man was. Mr. Coulson was someone Clint talk about a lot when he managed to sneak in late at night to talk with me. The rest of the team understood the restricted, “grounded”, conditions of my captivity. Clint didn’t seem to care.

“And why would I tell you? Forgive me if I don’t fully trust that the Avengers can protect me from those that sent me, they aren’t exactly the nicest of people, and I failed them two days ago.”

“You’re scared. I can understand that. From what I can gather, and the attempted break in last night, the people who sent you aren’t too keen on leaving loose ends. If you told us what we were up against at the very least, we would have an easier time protecting you.” I looked at him skeptically.

Telling him what everyone did wouldn’t be directly connected to the Circle. In fact, I didn’t think it would be too long before they sent someone to the high school I previously attended and asked questions there. They would get at least an idea on powers there at the very least.

“Just powers?” I asked.

“Just powers.”

“I’m not giving names.”

“I understand.”

“Intangibility, life force draining, telekinesis, ice powers, indestructibility, lava, weather manipulation. Do you want me to continue?” The man’s expression hadn’t changed as I made the list, and when he prompted me to continue I did. I felt like the Professor was watching me as I listed, trying to get inside my mind.

“And which powers do you think we should be most worried about?” He asked with the same measured calm.

“Mind reading, because it’s not just reading. It ends strategies, emotions, changes thinking patterns. You change, because he wants you to.” That seemed to greatly confuse him, but I was done answering questions for the time being.

+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++

Looking up at the Tower, Logan smiled. His previous attempt had been nothing more than child’s play. A warning to those inside that he was coming. This time, he saw the hunt a more of a challenge than usual, and that pleased him greatly.

He was going to make his move tonight in the chaos created by the five o’clock rush when the minimum wage workers flooded the front stairs wanting to get home as soon as possible. Then he’d make his way up the stairs as the night crew meandered in. It wasn’t until he got to the upper levels that actual fun would start. The Professor hadn’t limited him to just Scott’s kill. No, he could kill them all if he wished, and drench the Avenger’s world in blood if he so chose. And currently, he was more than a little thirsty for blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up Sunday!


	6. Stair Cases

It had been a very long time since he had made a building this large reek of death and blood. Much too long, Logan thought clenching his fists. It would be fun, and the Professor would be satisfied, and he would get the honor of claiming he killed the Avengers.

He smiled at the thought. One of the many he would be proud he rid the world of. The Professor was doing a fine enough job of protecting the world without their help, and would continue to do so after their bloody demise. Of that he was certain.

Logan could have laughed at how easy it was to get through the lobby. The uniform he had stolen off of a security guard turned corpse fit him rather well, and no one questioned him as he strolled through the front doors, past the desk clerk and right onto the stairway. He knew better than to take the elevator. The AI that run the building would be the most difficult challenge, which in his opinion was just sad.

Outsmarting technology was often as simple as taking the stairs and kicking down locked doors. Not very hard for the Wolverine, and any lethal counter measures were taken care of by his antimatium skeleton and his tendency to live through—well anything really.

This particular stairwell ran from the lobby to a hallway on the 78th floor. He would have to switch to another on the 78th to get to the 79th then again from the 79th to the personal living floors that extended from the 80th to the 100th floors where he would most likely find the Avengers and his prize, the broken Scott Summers. On his way down, he would create as much of a blood bath as he could within 10 minutes, which was, to date, extensive. It really just depended on how many people bothered to get in his way.

He could practically feel the blood coating his skin now, the tacky substance making its way down his arm rolling off his claws. He truly loved his job. If only others would learn to love it too. He had liked Scott at first, back before the Assassin’s Circle was more of vague dream and less of a reality. He had had spirit. A little too much innocence, but that was easily lost. He had the raw talent and the size that suggested he would be great.

Then came the day when the Professor had planned his first killed, and Logan had proceeded to watch as a conscious that couldn’t be beat out of him or erased, ate at the boy until his performance suffered. Then there were the breakdowns that showed just how easily Scott’s resolve and dedication to the Professor broke.

The Professor being the man he was decided to give Scott an honorable death, a death that would have awed his fellow assassins at the thought that he had even tried to kill such powerful people, instead of sniveling and begging at the end of claws. Yet somehow the boy had managed to mess even that up. Not only did he live through the encounter, he’d begun to thrive if his sources were correct, under the care of the very people he was meant to gain death from. It truly disgusted Logan.

He’d been given his chance at an easy death, but had rejected it. Now Logan got to give the alternative, which in the end, worked out well enough for him anyway.

Logan smiled when he reached the 75th floor with no hostiles in his way. It could mean one of two things. Either they were much stupider than he gave them credit for, or they planned to ambush him when it was necessary for him to change stair cases. Logan gave a smile and a growl at that thought. He truly hoped it was the latter. He was really hoping for a challenge today.

+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++ST+++

I was in the shooting range when the alarm went off. It was high pitched and new-ish, if you didn’t count the time it went off two days prior with the first intruder who disappeared. The only place it didn’t go off was in Scott’s room because we didn’t want him to freak out every time one of our various alarms went off.

“Jarvis, what’s going on? Is anyone headed towards Scott’s room?” I asked immediately.

“There seems to be an intruder on the 68th floor, sir. He’s dressed in a security uniform, and coming up the stair well. Mr. Stark is currently heading to young Mr. Summer’s room.” Okay so Scott would be protected.

“Where are the others J?”

“Ms. Romanoff is currently on the stair well waiting at the 78th level. Captain Rodgers is 34 seconds from joining her. Dr. Banner is currently in the medical labs. Shall I inform one of them on your direction, sir?”

“No, Jarvis. I’m going to meet ‘Tasha hopefully before the intruder gets to her. Though heaven knows she probably won’t need any help.” Especially if it involved Scott.

Within the amount of time Scott had been here, he had grown on each of the other members rather quickly. Tony acted a bit like a father figure, and a bit like an older brother, grounding him, joking around with him, and calming him down when he could. Tasha was the mother figure, though I was almost certain Scott didn’t know yet. Momma Bear had a tendency to only visit when he was sleeping or drugged up on pain killers and sedatives. Still that had kicked her protective instincts into overdrive. Bruce was like a concerned uncle/family pediatrician. He made sure Scott wasn’t in pain or stressed out of his mind, catching the kid up with the routine medical treatments he had missed for the last several years. Steve was a protective older brother, and I had heard Stark call me the family guard dog.

I darted down hallways and waited impatiently for the elevator to drop me off on the appropriate floor. Once there I added myself to the group of superheroes pointing their weapons at a closed stair door. Scott’s Momma Bear, Big Brother, and Guard Dog were about to physically explain why you didn’t mess with our family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> +++I left it here because I couldn’t decide on something, and so I figured I let those that comment help me out. Should Logan get captured, or should he escape? And should anyone get injured, and if so, who? Your options would be any one currently in the building (Hulk and Phil included.). Let me know what you think, and the next chapter should be up next Sunday.

**Author's Note:**

> Review, give kudos, or subscribe, and I'll post the next chapter soon. I'm off of school for the summer, so I have time. Let me know if you like it!


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